


All I Want For Christmas

by 6mgs7



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Ornaments, Firemen, Fluff and Smut, Fun and Fluff, Gallavich, Gay Sex, M/M, Mature Language/Content, Nothing serious, Pervert Santa, Santa Ian, Shopping, Yoober, alternative universe, blizzard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6mgs7/pseuds/6mgs7
Summary: Mickey gets drunk and shares his secret Christmas wish with Santa. Will he get everything he wished for?(Un-credited photo - if you know the original creator, please comment!)This takes place in Present Day, but Ian and Mickey are about 26-27 yrs old for this story. Mickey and Mandy haven't been tormented by Terry's anger for over a decade, giving them a chance to breath a little and grow beyond the canon bullshit they lived.





	1. THURSDAY

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Endgame Gallavich Group](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Endgame+Gallavich+Group).



THURSDAY:

“Hey!  Assface!”   Mandy banged on the bathroom door with her fist, “Come on Mickey!  What the fuck are you doing in there?  You better not be jacking off in the shower again, I swear to god, if I find cum on the shower wall again I’m gonna kick your ass!”

Mickey pulled the door open just as she went to bang her fists again, and jumped back to avoid getting hit. He flipped her off.  “Fuck you.  Don’t even try to tell me the reason you bought that shower head was to ease your fucking shoulder tension.”

“Whatever, get out!  You’ve been in here for almost an hour and you’re not even dressed.  What the hell were you doing?  Never mind. Please, god, don’t answer that.”

They pushed past each other in the narrow bathroom door. Mickey pulled the towel from around his waist and threw it over his shoulder, hitting Mandy in the head, then continued down the hall buck naked to his room.

“Goddamn it, Mickey!  I don’t need to see your junk every day! Stop walking around here naked!”

He raised both hands up in the air and gave her a double middle finger salute, wiggling his ass as he went, “Just be fucking happy I already took care of my wood… you’re welcome.”

“Asshole.”

“Fuck face.  Hurry up, we’re gonna be late.”  Mickey closed his bedroom door behind him before she could complain about the hour he’d spent in the bathroom, putting them behind schedule.  He went to his closet and began pulling out several shirts.  Red – no.  There was no way he was showing up looking like some festive fucker, even if it was a Christmas event.  Green – same problem.  Black – he held the button down shirt up against him.  He knew he looked damn good in that shirt, with his pale skin and black hair.  He turned his head in a few different directions looking for his best side in the mirror… fuck if they weren’t all his best side.

“MICKEY! Don’t you fucking dress like you’re going to a goddamn funeral!”

Mickey stared at his closed door bewildered, and wondered how the fuck Mandy knew he was holding up his favorite black dress shirt.  Was he that predictable, or was it that he’d worn the same shirt to the last four dress up events they had gone to?  Probably the latter.

He tossed the shirt onto the bed with the other discarded options, and went back to searching his closet when Mandy rapped on the door. 

He opened it to find her standing there in a dangerously short and shimmery dark blue dress that was practically pushing her boobs out the top and fit her like a glove – a really fucking tight glove.  Mickey eyed her up and down, giving a questioning frown, “Did you fuckin' paint that thing on?”

“Shut up – I plan on getting laid before New Year’s, hopefully by a hot fireman. I’m not taking any chances with some ugly sack dress like every other girl who’s gonna be there." 

She held out a gift wrapped box, “Here.  Maybe this'll help you get laid too, then I won’t have to disinfect the shower before I get in every day." 

He grabbed the box excitedly from her hands and started ripping away the wrapping paper.

"I wasn’t gonna give this to you until Monday, but I’m not in the mood to argue with you when you come out dressed in all black again, so just… Merry Christmas.”

“Sweet! I didn’t get you anything.  Yet.. I mean.” He confessed.

“Yeah, I know you haven't done your shopping yet. Just make sure whatever you get me is fucking expensive and I’ll forgive you for buying it at the last minute.”  She walked off to her room to finish getting dressed.  “You’d better look fucking hot, Mickey.  I’m not kidding – I don’t need you bringing down my game tonight.”

***

They went through the Taco Bell drive-thru on the way downtown.  Mickey had argued that all the fancy little food the waiters passed around on trays were usually disgusting, and never enough to fill him up, so Mandy finally gave in to his bickering to eat first. 

“Don’t you put any fucking taco sauce on your food!  You're not walking in there with shit all down the front of your shirt.” She warned.

He glanced down at the new dark blue button-down shirt he was wearing, the gift his sister had given him. He had chosen a pair of black slacks to go with it, and opted for a no-tie, open collar look.  It was unseasonably warm, even with a bit of snow left on the ground, so instead of a jacket, he’d finished it off with a pair of black leather gloves and a black and blue herringbone scarf that looked perfect.  He looked fucking great, but he knew Mandy was right – he was typically a messy eater, bound to drip taco sauce all over himself while eating and driving.   He argued anyway, just for the sake of arguing with her – it’s what they did.

“The food taste like shit without taco sauce.”

“I don’t care, I said no.  We’ll get food after the party if you’re still hungry.”

"I can't fuckin' be out until three in the morning, Mandy. I gotta be up at 5:30 for work."

"Stop acting like such a grumpy old man, Mickey. Jesus Christ, you're only a year older than me. You can afford to lose a few hours of precious sleep.

"Who the hell has a Christmas party on a Thursday night anyway?" He grumbled.

"Rich people, that's who. None of them have to work tomorrow." She checked her lipstick in the mirror and readjusted the girls in her dress. "We'll just drink their free booze and watch the Hot Fireman Auction. If I don't hook myself a fireman by eleven, we can leave."

He ordered their food, asking for extra Fire sauce, earning him a punch in the arm from Mandy.

By some small miracle, Mickey managed to eat 3 burritos without dropping any on his clothes as he drove. Mandy, on the other hand, kept bitching about his driving as she tried to clean up the lettuce and sour cream that had somehow gone down the front of her dress.

Mickey rolled his older model Honda up to the hotel almost an hour late – or fashionably late, as Mandy had put it.  No one who was anyone would have dared to be there exactly at 8.

“Pull up to Valet.” Mandy pointed to the front of the hotel lobby where a line of cars were waiting.

“No! No fucking way I’m paying for Valet parking when there’s a free parking lot right here.”

“I’ll pay for the valet, Mickey, you fucking cheapskate.  Just do it.  I’m wearing 6-inch goddamn heels, there is no way I’m walking through the snow to the front doors.”

He reluctantly turned the car into the line of vehicles in front of the hotel doors.  He took his gloves off and tossed them into the middle console of the car and waited for an attendant to arrive. Mandy was already stepping carefully onto the covered curb of the hotel as a Valet attendant ran up to the driver’s side to hand Mickey a claim ticket.  “Have a nice evening, Sir.”

“Yeah, be careful with her.  She’s delicate.”  He tossed his worn key chain to the valet, laughing at his joke as he eyed the row of new Mercedes, Audi’s, and other luxury cars that were waiting to be parked in comparison to his old beater.

“You got it, Sir.  Kid gloves.” the Valet promised.

Mickey jogged around the front of the car to catch up with Mandy.  She instinctively reached out and looped her fingers around his arm as many of the other couples were doing.  He gave her a strange look as he felt her grasp, “The fuck are you doing?”

“6-inch heels, asshole. I’m not falling out here like some drunk bitch who can’t handle her CFM’s.”

“What the fuck is a CFM?”

“My shoes.  Jesus Christ, Mickey.  I know you don’t screw women, but I’m pretty sure every guy knows what CFM shoes are.”

They walked into the lobby of the hotel, Mickey’s mind racing around the possible meanings of “CFM” but was coming up blank.  He made a mental note to google it later, if he was sober enough to remember it. 

The elevator was filled with people wearing suits and evening dresses, all going to the 56th floor ballroom for the Fireman’s Ball.  Mickey and Mandy were definitely under dressed for the occasion, judging by the attire of everyone around them, but they didn’t care.  She had won these tickets on the radio just two days earlier, and had convinced Mickey to go with her claiming there was going to be a Date a Fireman Auction to raise money for the Children’s Hospital.  Though the idea of seeing two dozen hot men dressed in little more than a pair of boxers and rubber goulashes had been enticing, it was the free drink wristbands and the promise of an open bar that had finally won him over.  Neither of them had the kind of cash necessary to win a date with any of the men who would be up for auction that night.

The elevator bell rang and the doors opened directly into the ballroom.  There were already hundreds of people mingling to the jazzy sounds of Christmas music coming from the bandstand, with waiters dressed like penguins walking around with trays full of finger food and flutes of Champagne.  Mickey grabbed three flutes just fives steps out of the elevator, handing one to Mandy and polishing off one himself in a long gulp.  He set the empty flute on a tray nearby, and began drinking the second glass he was still holding.

“Please tell me they have a real bar here, and not just this bubbly shit.”  He complained as he downed the second flute and set it aside.

Mandy pointed to three different spots around the room with small crowds gathered around them – she had zeroed in on the real alcohol the minute they stepped off the elevator. 

“Don’t you fucking dare get so wasted that I have to drive your ass home.  I’m not kidding, Mickey. I wore this dress to get lucky, and your ass might be going home alone tonight, so don’t get drunk.”

He looked at his watch, doing the math – it was just after 9, and the event went until 1 a.m. that gave him at least three hours of hard drinking before he had to sober up for the ride home.  Fuck it, he thought.  There was always Yoober if he got to drunk.  He pulled his arm from Mandy’s hand, nearly tipping her off balance in her CM-whatever-the-fuck-ever shoes, and took off for the bar.  

“Asshole!” She called after him as she reached out for balance, splashing Champagne over her hand.  Her other hand fell into the open palm of a nearby gentlemen dressed in black tuxedo, his other arm reaching around her waist to help steady her.

“Whoa, steady. Are you ok?” 

He was tall, slender built with an obvious muscular physic under all the layers of fabric, and he had large strong hands that were wrapping themselves quite naturally around her as she pretended to still be off balance just a little bit.  Mandy immediately reached her hands up to his shoulders and gave him her best wicked smile.

“Well, I am now.  Aren’t you a cool drink of water.”  She licked her lips and stepped back just enough to keep his hands around her waist, giving her enough space to rake her eyes down the length of his long body, clearly undressing every inch of him as they went.  Her fingers tightened slightly around him when she felt his own hands begin to loosen on her, drawing him back in.  He giggled at her, making her giggle back.

“Uhm. Thank you, I guess.  I’m Ian.”  He let go of her waist and held his hand out to her.

Reluctantly she stepped back and held her own out in return, which he raised to his soft lips and kissed gently.  Holy fucking shit, she thought!  This guy was not only fucking hot, but over the top with the chivalry bullshit too! She was all in. 

“Mandy.  Pleasure’s all mine.”  She kept a hold of his large hand as he lowered hers from his lips.

“Was that your boyfriend?  The guy I saw you holding onto a minute ago?”

Mandy’s mind raced?  Boyfriend? What guy?  Was there a guy?  Oh shit!  Mickey –

“Oh, No!  No, not my boyfriend.  No, not even the slightest bit my boyfriend, in fact.  That was just my asshole brother in search of a drink, actually.”  She pointed to the bar at the far right wall where Mickey was slowly making his way to the front of the line.  Ian looked in Mickey’s direction, unconsciously licking his bottom lip at the sight of the ruggedly handsome brunette.

“Your brother?”  His eyes stayed glued on Mickey, smirk dressing his own mouth.

Mandy was watching Ian – watching her brother… “Are you fucking kidding me?!”  Ian turned back toward her, a look of surprise now crossing his face at her irritated outburst.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” He asked.

“No.  Not you.  Me.”  She took a step away from him, this time taking him in from head to toe.  He had bright red hair that was impossibly perfect, looking like he had spent hours in the bathroom getting it to sit just right on his head.  She was immediately reminded of Mickey’s hour long prep session in the bathroom earlier that night. His lips were pink with a perfect Cupid's bow, and pale freckles kissed his skin all over his face, but somehow even those were working for him. His clothes were impeccable – a stylish black tuxedo with a dark hunter green vest and tie which magnified the green of his soft, friendly eyes even more.  He was beautiful and perfect and everything she wanted to take home and ravage, but the look she had seen on his face just seconds before said he was more interested in taking Mickey home than her.

She bit the bullet and just asked, “Just fucking tell me.  Are you gay?”

Ian cocked his head at her, as if astonished.  He looked down at the way he was dressed – pretty much identical to 90% of the men in the room – wondering what possibly made her ask that.

“Am I that obvious?” He asked.

“Not your clothes.  Jesus, you look… like everyone else.  But the way you were just staring at my brother’s ass, and not even looking once at my boobs, which you were practically wearing a minute ago, kind of gave it away.”

Ian smiled, a light blush rushing up his cheeks as he gave her an innocent ‘sorry’ shrug of his shoulders.

“What the fuck ever.  I should have known he’d find some fucking guy to go home with him before I would.”

“Whoa, wait a minute... What does that mean, exactly?”  Ian’s heart skipped at the idea that her brother might actually be into guys, but Mandy immediately regretted her words.  Sure, Mickey was gay. Sure, she’d known he was gay from the time he was 14 years old and she caught him getting sucked off behind the school from some ROTC punk.  Sure, it was common knowledge he brought home an occasional quick fuck on the weekends from a bar – but Mickey was not Out.

“Uh.  Nothing. That didn’t mean anything.” She started to walk past Ian toward the bar, but he grabbed hold of her arm to catch her before she escaped. 

“Are you sure it meant nothing?” He had a pleading puppy eyes, begging her to throw him a bone.  She glanced at her brother, then back at Ian.

“Look, I’m not saying a goddamn thing, ok.  It’s not my place.”

“Ok… so can I assume that maybe you meant ‘something’ but you’re just respecting someone’s privacy and saying it meant ‘nothing?’”  he asked carefully.  “Come on. Do I look like a bad guy to you?  I’m an EMT.  I make a good living, I work out, I eat my vegetables, I love my family.   Just… help a guy out, would you?  I’ll introduce you to every fireman here tonight if you just give me something to work with.”

Mandy considered what he’d said – trading Mickey’s deepest secret in exchange for Hot EMT Ian introducing her to all of the fireman. Well, it was't like it was really a secret secret, she told herself. At least not with the guys he fucked N ducked at the bars, right? He just didn't go around announcing it to the rest of the world, was all.

“Damn it, fine! Come on.  I’ll introduce you to my brother.  Fucking play it cool, or I’ll rip your goddamn balls off, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.  I hear you.”  Ian held his arm out for her to take hold of like a gentleman and gave her a grateful smile.  “Thank you.”

Mickey was ordering two whiskeys when she approached the bar, “Make it three.” She told the bartender. 

Mickey turned, giving her a questioning look when he saw the red head she was holding on to. He drank Ian in slowly, head to toe, just as Mandy had done moments earlier, then turned to the bartender again, “Three… and make them doubles.”

“Mickey, this is my new friend Ian.  He’s going to introduce me to all of his firemen friends.  Isn't that right Ian?”

Ian smiled directly at Mickey, taking in the deep blue of Mickey’s eyes and the way they sparkled in the twinkling Christmas lights that surrounded them.  His gaze was heavy and hot, never faltering, making Mickey’s balls tighten up in his slacks, “Yeah. That’s right.  Mandy said she wanted to meet some firemen tonight.” 

Ian held his hand out to Mickey, who hesitated momentarily as he was still mesmerized by the gorgeous man standing in front of him.  Mandy nudged Mickey with her elbow, pulling him from his trance.  He took Ian’s hand in a firm shake, holding it just a few seconds longer than necessary before reluctantly letting it go.

“So, does that make you a fireman too, then?”  Mickey asked.  The bartender came back with their drinks, and Ian quickly reached into his pocket for a five dollar bill to slip onto the bar as a tip. He handed each of the siblings a glass and held up his own as if to toast.

“No, not a fireman.  I’m an EMT at the fire station.”  He reached his hand out to clink their glasses together, “To new friends.  Cheers.”

Mandy gave him another wicked smile before taking a sip.  Mickey’s eyes dropped to Ian’s lips as Ian touched the glass of whiskey to his mouth.  He sucked his bottom lip in and bit it, habitually, as he watched Ian take a drink.  The entire exchange wasn’t lost on Ian.  He licked a drop of whiskey from his lips and smiled at Mickey after his sip.

“Aren’t you going to drink?  It’s bad luck to toast and not drink.”

Mickey threw his head back and downed the entire double shot in one take, then set the empty glass on the bar, rapping his knuckles on the wood, “One more please.”  He told the bartender.

***  
Mickey and Mandy sat at a table near the dance floor where they could watch all the upper end, snot nosed rich assholes and make fun of them. Ian was apparently part of the fundraising team, there to work to crowd and help get donations up through his talented social skills.  When he wasn’t busy mingling with the high end donors of the evening, he made his way back to the sibling's table and talked endlessly, mostly with Mandy. Exchanging conversations with strangers had never been Mickey’s strong point. He was great with people he was familiar with, and would laugh and bullshit all night, but it took a lot of alcohol to get him to warm up to anyone new. The more Ian came to sit with them, the more Mickey was warming up to him.

Mickey couldn’t quite get a handle on who Ian was exactly.  When he sat with them at the table, Ian was laid back and a little rough around the edges, laughing and joking like he was South Side born and raised.  But each time he left their table again, he slipped right into the elite and lavish lifestyle of the people that surrounded them.  Ian spent most of his time talking or dancing with rich, bored housewives or old North Side Heiresses, who in turn, spent most of their time grabbing his ass and giggling innocently when he acted surprised. It only left Mickey heated in his seat every time he saw it happen. Mickey convinced himself his irritation had nothing to do with being jealous over some stranger he'd met an hour earlier getting groped on the dance floor, but more to do with the billions of people filling the room with hot, stuffy air. 

It was nearly 10 when Ian returned to the table he had picked out for them. He was carrying a tray of shots in hand.  He took a seat, casually scooting his chair an inch or two closer to Mickey’s as he did, and loosened his tie a bit.

“Ready for the show?”  He asked excitedly as he pointed toward the stage in front of them.  The music stopped playing as an MC came to the microphone and announced the start of the Annual Fireman Auction.  The crowd cheered around them, including Mandy, who whistled loudly with two fingers as a long line of near naked Fireman took stage to the sound of loud rock music now playing overhead.

Ian widened his legs under the table, his knee gently tapping against Mickey’s, but his eyes never leaving the stage.  Mickey wiped the palms of his hands along his thighs, his eyes also staying glued to the men on stage, but his mind fully engaged on the feeling of Ian’s leg touching his own.

“Which one are you going to bid on?” Ian asked, looking directly at Mickey.  Both Mickey and Mandy returned his look, each of them slightly taken aback.  Then Ian turned his gaze to Mandy, and asked again, “Mandy?  Which one?”  Mickey continued to look at him wondering what Ian had meant by that little comment, clearly directed at him the first time.

She thumbed through the program on the table. It was a menu of sorts, listing each Fireman’s name, years of service, hobbies and favorite foods.  “Well, fuck, if I had any money, I’d probably choose….”  She matched one name in the program up with a fireman standing to the center right of the stage, “Him!”

She bit down on her bottom lip, then licked it, reminding Ian instantly of the way Mickey had done the same to him earlier at the bar. 

“That guy will probably run you about … eh, ten grand.”

“No. Fucking. Way!”  Mandy spurt out.

Ian nodded.  “Plus, I’m pretty sure he has the herps.”

Both Mandy and Mickey curled their lips up, “Ew!”

Ian pointed to a black, handsome firemen standing to the far left.  “He’s bi – but you don’t want to date him - he's a known cheater. Sleeps with anyone.  He's also an asshole.”  He pointed a few more out, giving up little secrets on each of them.

“Are you just saying all of this so you don’t have to introduce me to any of them?”  Mandy asked.

As if on cue, a tuxedo clad, GQ style man walked up to the table, “Hey Ian, sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Are these the friends you were telling me about?” His eyes and smile fell on Mandy.

Mickey wasn’t up to meeting more people and took that as his opportunity to go grab a smoke. He pushed his chair back as brief introductions were made, then excused himself. He headed for a set of double doors leading out onto a nearly deserted balcony, and breathed in the cold air of relief once he was finally free of all the tuxedos and formalities of the ballroom.  The view from 56 stories high was both breathtaking and dizzying.  He put a cigarette in between his lips as he stepped cautiously toward the glass and steel short wall that encased the balcony, peeking over the edge with hesitation.

“Pretty incredible view, isn’t it?”  Ian asked, startling Mickey and making him jump back from the edge.

“Uh, yeah.  Shouldn’t you be inside, with your buddy?”  Mickey asked.  He reached around his pockets feeling for a lighter.  Ian stepped up to him quickly, cupping his hand near Mickey’s cigarette as he struck a flame off his own lighter.

“Actually, I needed an excuse for you and I to get away.”  Ian answered.  Mickey jerked his eyes up toward Ian, surprised by his words.  Ian quickly corrected himself, “I just meant, so Jeff could talk to Mandy, alone, you know?  He’s a nice guy.  She’ll like him.”

Mickey inhaled a deep puff of smoke, his eyes staying set on Ian’s, trying to figure him out.  “What about you?  Do you like him?”

“Jeff?  Yeah, he’s a nice guy.  Not really my type, I guess – he talks a lot.”  Ian leaned up against the glass rail and looked out at the city, “I kind of like ‘em…quieter, I guess.” He turned his head toward Mickey as Mickey exhaled the smoke into the cold air, looking as sexy as fuck,

“Yeah, well you fuckin’ do enough talking for two people... I guess.”  Mickey smirked. He offered his cigarette to Ian.  Ian’s fingers brushed against Mickey's as the cigarette exchanged hands.  He could taste a bit of the whiskey Mickey had been drinking on the filter as he sucked, making him want to lick his lips and chase the flavor when he handed the cigarette back to Mickey.

“So, did you see anyone up on stage you wanted to bid on tonight?”  Ian dared to ask.  

Neither Mickey nor Mandy had needed to confirm Mickey’s preference for men – it had been obvious all night by the way Mickey’s eyes had stayed glued on Ian.  Ian had caught him looking more than a few times, and each time Mickey had had that same cool, mysterious gleam in his eyes as he worried his bottom lip, never breaking eye contact with Ian. 

Mickey turned so he was leaning against the railing with one arm, now facing Ian directly. Typically, he wasn't so bold, but the whiskey was doing its job and warming him down to his bones and his nerves, making him more assertive than he usually was. “I saw something I wanted, but it wasn’t on stage.” 

He reached out and handed the cigarette back to Ian.  Ian took a small step closer to Mickey.  They were just inches apart as he tipped his head up so he could take another short drag.  Mickey licked his lips as he watched Ian’s mouth move around the butt of the cigarette.  He wanted to taste Ian – his mouth, his skin, his cum, and he had every intention of doing just that…

The doors behind them flew open, letting the loud music from inside the ballroom disrupt their tranquil space, “Ian! There you are. We need you back inside.”  Mickey took a quick few steps back, putting a foot or two of distance between him and Ian, and looking out over the city once again.

“Hey Sue, what’s going on?”  Ian handed the cigarette back to Mickey, which was quickly ignored.  He dropped it to the ground and scratched it out with the toe of his shoe.

“We’ve got ladies in there asking where the cute red head went off to, that’s what’s going on!  Come on, you’re working, remember?” She nodded her head toward the crowded ballroom, urging him to move.

“Ok, yeah. I’ll be right in.”  He turned to Mickey who was now walking further down the balcony, “Hey Mick.  Catch up with you later?”

Mickey held one hand up, waving him off without looking back, as he went further away, “Yeah, whatever, Firecrotch.  Go work.  I think I’m calling it a night – I gotta work tomorrow.”  He pulled out his phone to send Mandy a text.

Ian watched him go, wanting to follow, but Sue called him back. “Ian, come on!”

 


	2. FRIDAY

FRIDAY:

Five o’clock felt like it took forever to come around. Mickey had been dragging his ass all day long on the job, exhausted from the lack of sleep he'd gotten the night before. Even though he’d fallen short on getting the red head home with him last night, Ian had still managed to keep Mickey up well into the early hours of the morning.

“Hey Mickey, you coming to the bar tonight for a few drinks?” One of the guys called out as Mickey headed for the L.

“Nah, man. Told my sister I’d take her to some mall on the North Side to finish Christmas shopping.” 

He waved at the men as they all headed in different directions, and pulled out his phone to text Mandy to make sure she'd picked up his car from the hotel, where he'd left it in exchange for a Yoober car at the end of the night. Mandy hadn’t made it home after the Fireman's Ball – apparently her little meet and greet with Fireman Jeff had been successful, however she had texted early in the morning to let Mickey know she was still alive and holding him to his promise to go to the new mall in Lincoln Park. Why the fuck she needed to shop there was beyond him, but it was either that or get drunk again. He was trying to make better choices, and that included drinking less and quitting smoking. He lit up a cigarette as he waited for his train.

By the time he reached their apartment on the South Side, the lights were all on, letting him know Mandy was already there. The house smelled like chicken and broccoli when he walked in, which caught him by surprise considering he did most of the cooking. Mandy mostly only bought fast food in greasy bags, and it had never smelled this delicious before. He tossed his jacket on the bench next to the door and kicked his boots off, leaving them in the middle of the walkway.

“Mandy! Who the fuck is cooking?” He called out as he headed to the kitchen. He turned the corner into the room and found her pinned up against the counter with Fireman Jeff’s tongue down her throat.

“Oh shit, I didn’t know we had company.” Mickey went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, taking a long swig as he eyed Fireman Jeff and Mandy who had given up the battle of the tongues.

“Mickey, you remember Jeff, from the party last night? He works at the same fire station as Ian.”

The mention of Ian’s name caught Mickey by surprise, and made him choke on a little liquid going down the wrong pipe. He nodded his head at Fireman Jeff’s extended hand as he struggled to catch his breath, but didn’t shake it.

“Anyway, Jeff made us dinner.” Mandy gave him a look, her brows raised on her forehead, telling Mickey that by “us” she hadn’t meant ‘him.’

“Yeah, I can smell that. What happened to shopping tonight?” Mickey asked indignantly, as if he had been looking forward to shopping all day. The truth was, he really just wanted to get into his boxers and a t-shirt and sit in front of the Xbox all night, but it didn’t look like that was going to be a possibility with Fireman Jeff in the house either. 

Mandy shrugged and asked him solemnly, “You really want to go shopping?”

Mickey flipped her off, grabbed another beer from the fridge, and headed for his room. “Good to see you again, Jeff. Tell Ian I said hello.” 

The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he had said. He wanted to run back into the kitchen and scream, ‘No! Don’t tell Ian anything! Pretend I never said a word!’ But it was too late. As he closed his bedroom door behind him, he heard Fireman Jeff call back, “Will do!”

Mickey changed out of his work clothes into a pair of old baggy jeans and a ratty Metallica t-shirt. He was pulling on a faded gray hoody when Mandy invited herself into his room and sat on the bed.

“So, what happened with Ian last night?” She asked.

“What’ya mean what happened? Nothing fuckin’ happened. I came home alone and you went and got your clock cleaned by Ol’ Jeffrey Boy.” Mickey grabbed a pair of worn boots from his closet and sat next to her on the bed.

“Yeah, asshole. I know all that. I just meant, why the fuck didn’t you jump his ass? He was eye fucking you all night long, Mickey. Hell, he came right out and told me he was interested in you when I first met him.”

Mickey’s head shot up to her, “He what?”

“Yeah, when we first got there, I thought he was hitting on me, but turns out he was just trying to meet you. I can’t believe you fucked that up.”

Mickey tied his boots and started stuffing his pockets with his phone, wallet, and keys. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that last night?”

“I didn’t think you needed a fucking map to his dick, asshole. Thought you knew how to find that shit yourself.”

“Fuck you.” He said without heat. “I’m going out.”

“You going to the bar?”

“No, I’m going to the fucking mall. I still need to do my shopping, even if you’re too busy with Fireman Fred in there to do your own.”

“His name is Jeff.”

Mickey pulled his heavy winter coat on over his hoody. “I know what the fuck his name is. You’d better make sure you get my fucking present, bitch. And it better be good for standing me up tonight.”

"I gave you a shirt last night." Mandy argued.

"Doesn't count. You gave it to me early... plus it was clothes and you yelled at me when you gave it to me. Terrible fuckin' present."

He headed for the door. “Hey Mickey. You wanna go to another Christmas party tomorrow night?”

“No.” He said firmly.

“Come on. Fireman Fred – fuck, I mean Jeff – said it’s their fire station party. They’re having it down at that dive, The Alibi. Free food… cold beer… Ian’s probably gonna be there.”

Her last words stopped Mickey in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at her, defeated at the idea of seeing Ian again. “Why the fuck would they have a party at The Alibi?”

“South Side firehouse. Weren’t you paying attention when Ian said that last night? Come on, Mickey. How bad can it be? It won’t be a bunch of pretentious assholes like it was last night, I promise.”

He ignored her pleas. “I gotta go. If Fireman Fred is spending the night, move your fucking bed away from the wall. I don’t feel like being up all night because you can’t keep the banging and moaning shit under control.”

Jeff stood at the kitchen door, shocked at Mickey’s statement as Mandy grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at Mickey’s back, “Fuck off, Mickey. Besides, I have to listen to your fucking ass every time you bring some random guy home.” She ran up to the door before he closed it behind him, “Hey Mickey, just think about tomorrow night, ok? It’ll be fun.”

Mickey spent the next three hours walking around the mall, going in stores briefly, only to turn right back around again when he’d see the crowds of people mulling around. Store after store, he managed to walk from one end of the mall to the other without buying a single thing except for a hot pretzel and a soda. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

_Mandy: Fireman Fred wants to know if you want Ian’s phone number_

Mickey’s heart skipped a beat. Yes! Yes, he fucking wanted the number, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Fireman Fred that. 

_Mickey: Why the fuck would I want that?_

_Mandy: *middle finger emoji* Your loss, asshole. Just trying to help._

_Mickey: Don’t._

Mickey slipped his phone back into his pocket, but took it right out again a moment later.

_Mickey: What time is the party tomorrow?_

_Mandy: *multiple happy face emojis* any time after 8_

Mickey took one last sip of his drink then tossed it into the trash bin. His mind raced back to this closet at home and immediately settled on the black button-down Mandy had been dead set on him not wearing the night before. He glanced at his reflection in the glass window of one of the stores and ran his fingers through his hair, then headed to the far end of the mall to a salon for a haircut. He didn’t want to buy anything new to wear tomorrow – that would look like he was trying too hard – but a clean haircut always looked nice. He made a mental note to pick out a new cologne before he left the mall as well. Mandy was always complaining that he smelled like a 90-year-old man when he wore the Old Spice he’d grown accustomed to. He sent Mandy one last text.

_Mickey: You bought me cologne for Christmas. It’s going to be expensive. Thank you._

_Mandy: Fucker_


	3. SATURDAY

SATURDAY:

“Ian! Come on! Everyone's already leaving, what are you doing?” Fiona yelled up the stairs at her brother who had been in the bathroom since she got out of there thirty minutes earlier.

“I’m coming, Jesus Christ.” He came bounding down the stairs dressed in old faded jeans and a green t-shirt, slipping into his EMT jacket as he walked to the door. He grabbed a black garment bag hanging by the front door and a pair of mid length black leather boots off the floor.

“You gotta be kidding me – you were in there all this time and you still come out looking like this?” she waved her hand up and down at him as if to demonstrate his less than impressive attire. “What the fuck were you doing in there anyway?”

Ian smiled as he took the front porch steps two at a time, “Don’t ask.”

“Ew, Ian! Fucking hell! Were you jacking off in the bathroom again?” She cried out.

“I told you not to ask. And, it’s not like anyone cares what I’m wearing right now. I’m literally going to be changing into a costume when I get there.”

They arrived at the bar just before 7 carrying in boxes of food and decorations. Ian’s brother Lip dropped three large boxes filled with lasagna at the long buffet tables before heading to the bar for a quick drink.

“Hey Kev, gimme a beer, would ya?” He asked.

“How’s it going, Lip? Tell me again, why is Ian having his work party here tonight?”

“They put his ambulance crew in charge of planning this year’s party. Ian figured he could offer everyone more free beers if he spent the money they had on alcohol instead of renting a hall, so I guess your place won.”

Kevin handed him the beer, “All right, I guess I’m ok with the the extra business, but a room full of cops and first responders might not be so good for our local clientele.” He and Lip looked down the bar, eyeing what Kevin considered 'local clientele'. There were three regular customers there: Kermit, Tommy, and Frank Gallagher, Lip’s own dad. Frank was passed out at the far end of the bar, slowly slipping from his bar stool. Lip walked up and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Frank. Cops are on their way. You got any outstanding warrants we should know about?” Lip asked.

Frank’s head popped up, a sudden alertness in his eyes, “Cops? Who the fuck called the cops on me? Can’t a guy get a decent nap anymore without going to jail? I pay my goddamn taxes, I should be able to lay my head down for five minutes in peace after a long day...” He gathered his jacket and stumbled from his stool, still ranting about the unjust treatment of neighborhood drunks as he walked out into the cold night.

Lip looked at Tommy and Kermit. “You two got any warrants?”

They looked at each other and shook their heads, “No, I got no problem with cops.” Tommy answered. Kermit agreed as he drank the last of his beer, “Me neither, I’m clean.” He gathered up his jacket quickly and followed Frank out the front door without another word. 

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Lip said as he watched Kermit scurry off. He followed close behind and posted a “Closed for Private Party” sign on the outside of the door.

***

Eight thirty rolled around and the entire bar was decked in tinsel and lights, courtesy of the rest of Ian’s siblings, all of whom he had hired cheap to work for the night. He had been upstairs in the little loft apartment with Kevin’s wife, Vee, getting into the Santa Suit she had borrowed from the nursing home she used to work at three years earlier. Normally Kevin wore the suit, and not necessarily at Christmas time or even outside of their bedroom, but Ian didn’t need to know that. All he knew was that the legs of the pants were too long for either of his brothers, and with Kevin behind the bar, that left only Ian who was tall enough to fit into the suit.

Fiona came into the apartment to check on their progress, “How’s it going up here? Almost done? We have quite a few folks with their kids starting to show up downstairs, Ian. You need to hurry and get down there before it gets too late.”

He was all clad in red velvet, his hair pulled down tight into a net as Vee put the final touches on his makeup. Fiona took one look and gasped, “Oh my god! Vee! You did an amazing job! Ian, have you seen yourself? You look like a real 75-year-old man, it’s incredible!”

“We had all that make up and costume putty left over from Halloween, so I just thought I’d try it out on him. You don’t think it’s too much?” Vee asked.

“No, not at all! He looks amazing, Vee.”

Ian took a look in the mirror. It really was an astonishing make up job. Vee had used spirit gum to attach a very realistic looking beard and mustache to his face, and had even used a white mascara to color the tips of his red lashes and eyebrows. 

“Sit down where I can reach you. I gotta get this wig on you.” The wig was the pièce de résistance, polishing off the festive look.

“Holy shit, I’m Santa Claus.” Ian said as he took a final look and spin in the mirror. Vee had constructed a round bobble of a nose with the putty, and practically painted a masterpiece of wrinkles around his eyes and forehead to age him and given him the classic rosy cheeks on his face. Fiona stood inches away from him, looking for her little brother underneath the disguise.

“Holy shit is right. Vee you should get paid to do this, he looks fantastic!”

Vee held her hand out, “I take Visa, Mastercard, and Amex, but I prefer cash.” Fiona smacked a hi-five into her open palm, then pulled Ian to the door. 

“You’re up, big guy. All your friends brought plenty of kids to keep you busy for a while, and a lot of them are little, so don’t be getting drunk out there and killing their illusion of Santa Claus.”

Ian grabbed a thick, worn leather band with large jingle bells and headed for the stairs. As he got closer to the bottom of the stairs he began shaking the bells and calling out a hearty, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrry Christmas!” 

The crowd of people already filling the bar cheered as Santa Ian entered the room, and children ran up close for hugs as he made his way through the room. Ian’s eyes fell immediately to the shorter curly haired elf, Lip, who was talking to a very familiar looking brunette girl at a back booth. Fireman Jeff had his arm wrapped around Mandy’s shoulder as he talked to other couples in the booth, but Mandy’s bright smile and eyes were solely on Lip as he handed out beers.

Ian glanced around her table hoping to see Mickey with them but was disappointed to see only some of the men and women from his station with their significant others.

Lip headed back to the bar, stopping momentarily when he saw Ian, “Holy shit! Ian!? That’s fucking incredible man! You look great!” 

“Yeah, well you look like you fell out of a tree and should be carrying Keebler cookies on a tray.” Ian laughed. Their younger brother Carl came up, dressed similarly as Lip, with only half the amusement on his face.

“I changed my mind – you owe me $100 bucks for making me wear this ridiculous get up. I just tried hitting on that chick over there and she laughed me off like I was some Wizard of Oz munchkin or something.”

“I’ll give you $50 like we agreed, along with any tips you make.” Ian said as he glanced at the women Carl was pointing at. “And that "chick" is my Chief’s wife, so do me a favor and don’t talk to her any more tonight. Just do your fucking job.” Ian caught Mandy staring over at Lip, “That goes for you too, Lip. Don’t fuck around tonight, especially with her.”

“She’s fucking hot, man. Look at her. She’s undressing me with her teeth from across the room!”

“No, Lip! I’m not kidding.” Ian insisted.

“Who is she? She was asking if I’d seen you here yet. Apparently, she can’t tell it’s you in this costume, man. Vee threw down! I swear if I didn’t know if was you under there, I’d think you were some old fat fucking Santa.”

“Yeah, well, just do me a favor. Don’t tell her it’s me. Don’t tell anyone. If they ask, just tell them I’m in the back working or something.”

Lip and Carl went back to the bar to fill more beer orders. Ian took a seat on the big comfy chair Kevin had brought down from the loft to be used as a throne. Fiona went to the front of the bar and whistled with two fingers to get everyone’s attention, killing the Christmas music playing on the jukebox. 

“We have a bunch of little ones and their families who are going to be leaving soon to get to sleep, but before you go, Santa is here for just a little while to hear your Christmas wishes! Everyone come and line up!”

Mickey stood at the pool table watching as a dozen or more screaming kids ran to get in line to see Santa. He’d been searching the room since he arrived for Ian, but so far Ian was a no show. Mickey checked his watch, trying to decide if he should leave or stick around a while longer and risk looking like some desperate guy waiting for Ian to show up. He glanced at Mandy catching her attention long enough to get a shrug of her shoulders. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet. Another hour. That’s all he was giving it, then calling it a night.

Ian took each child on his lap, one at a time, talking to them in a deep, jolly Santa voice. He listened to their Christmas wishes, as his youngest sister Debbie stood nearby to hand out candy canes and move the line along when each child finished having their picture taken. His coworkers, the children’s parents, raved about the great Santa Ian had hired for the party, none of them realizing it was him beneath the disguise. It was well after ten when the last child left the bar with her parents, giving Ian his first opportunity to get a real drink

As he approached the bar, already overheated and tired of the suit he was wearing, Fiona come up to meet him. “Ian, leave the costume on! We have a ton of people asking if Santa’s gonna stick around for their pictures as well.”

He glanced around the room, a heavy sigh escaping him. He wanted nothing more than to get out of that hot costume and make up and join the party. 

“Ok, but now that the kids are gone, I’m drinking.”

“That’s fine, just hurry up and get back over there.” She said, swatting him on his butt as she walked away.

Ian leaned against the bar tiredly. 

“What’ll it be Santa?” Kev asked.

Ian was about to order an icy cold beer when a familiar laugh caught his ear. He looked over at the pool tables and saw Mickey leaning over with his cue stick to take his next shot. He was dressed in black jeans and a black button-down shirt, his hair cut short around the sides with the long strands slicked back on the top of his head, and a few runaway strands falling over his forehead. 

“Two double whiskeys.” Ian answered, keeping his eyes glued on the blue-eyed beauty. Mickey dropped the eight ball in a corner pocket, then began collecting his winnings from the man he was playing. Kevin poured the drinks and slid them across the bar. “Thanks.”

Mickey was downing the last of his beer as a new player racked the pool balls for the next game. Ian walked up behind him, speaking in his deep Santa voice, “Hi young man. Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

Mickey turned around, and quickly took a step backwards away from Santa Ian, his face twisted up at the idea of this ancient old man hitting on him. “Uh… shouldn’t you know the answer to that already?”

Ian held a glass of whiskey out to Mickey, “Here, I bought you a drink.” He knew his disguise was good, but surely Mickey could see him underneath it, he thought. Mickey ignored the offer and reached for the cue chalk on the pool table. “Don’t you remember me?”

“N-no. No, I’m afraid I don’t old man. Think you might have me confused with someone else. And, uh, I don’t drink whiskey, but thanks.” 

Mickey grabbed the white cue ball to set up his first shot, hoping the creepy old Santa would leave him alone. Santa Ian walked up behind him as he was about to take his shot and goosed him in the ass before stepping back.

“Whoa, fuck! Hey! Watch it asshole! Seriously. I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but I’m not your guy, ok?” Mickey balled his fists. He wasn’t sure if punching a pervy old man dressed as Santa was bad karma or not, but it was only going to take one more bad move on Santa’s part before Mickey hit him.

Ian laughed and held both hands up in front of him in surrender, but before he could explain himself, Fiona was at his side, taking his two glasses of whiskey and placing them next to Mickey’s empty beer glass, then pulling him back out into the crowd of people in the room. Mickey watched him disappear with relief, then took one of the double whiskeys and downed it in one gulp. 

“Fucking pervert.” He mumbled. He grabbed the second shot, his eyes still glued to the Pervert Santa who was now taking his seat once again and staring back at Mickey. Mickey held the shot up in the air, and flipped Pervert Santa off with the other hand before taking the shot in one swallow. 

Ian grabbed Fiona’s arm before she could walk away again, “Hey Fi, see the guy over there in black? Make sure he has a shot of whiskey in front of him all night long. Just keep them coming and put it on my tab.”

Ian spent the next hour with drunk men and women taking their turns on his lap, getting group pictures, couples pictures and just plain old silly pictures of themselves kissing Santa. Everyone had eventually quit asking if Ian was coming out to the party and were just more focused on dancing and frolicking the night away. 

At one point Mandy came over to get her picture taken with Santa. Ian let her slip on his lap, his arm wrapping around her tiny waist firmly as he asked in his sexiest, deep bedroom voice, “Have you been naughty or nice this year, little girl.”

Mandy pulled her head back just a bit and took in every minute detail of his face. It only took a few seconds before she busted out laughing, then touched her forehead to his, placing both of her hands on either side of his beard, “Holy fucking shit! I thought you were some pervy old fuck trying to get in my pants! I just realized you’re nothing but make up!”

She lifted the sides of his wig just a little, “Who’s under there? Let me see you? Are you fucking hot?” She giggled, “Not, like ‘hot hot’… I meant, aren’t you fucking burning up in this thing? I’m hot and I barely have anything on compared to you!”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh himself, as she tried to examine him closer, wiggling into his lap and getting up close and personal. She let her hands run down his shoulders and biceps, “Shit, you feel really good under there. How old are you?” she asked.

“Old enough to know that this is naughty… and a little nice.” Ian teased. He waited for her to recognize him, but it was clear Mandy was drunk and not seeing straight, so there might be little chance of her figuring it out.

“Hmmmm… well, I can’t see what you look like, but you have fucking beautiful eyes, Santa Baby.” 

Debbie was getting tired of watching the brunette chick feel up her gay brother, and cleared her throat loudly, “Excuse me, are you going to get a picture or not? There are other people waiting.” 

Ian looked around – there wasn’t a single other person in line at the moment, but Mandy rolled her eyes and spun herself in Ian’s lap for the photo. Just as Debbie lifted her camera to take the picture, Mandy turned and grabbed Ian by the face, planting a wet kiss on his lips, and catching him by surprise! He returned a chaste, innocent kiss to her slightly open lips, then pulled back quickly when Debbie announced, “Next!”

Mandy gave him her wicked signature smile and stood up, making sure to rake her breasts as close to Ian’s face as possible. 

“Keep my seat warm, Santa. I’ll be back soon for more pictures.” 

As she walked away, Ian’s hands loosened on the arms of the chair that he didn’t even realize he had been white knuckle gripping. He waved off the next person who tried to approach, telling them he needed to take a bathroom break really quick. He stopped to order a cold beer at the bar before heading for the bathroom.

Once inside, he pulled the red velvet hat from his head and the wig setting them onto the window seal. He turned on the cold water in the sink, then pulled the net from his hair. He ran cold wet fingers through his hair, making it stick up in every direction and immediately cooling him off. The bathroom door opened and Ian instinctively grabbed his velvet hat to hold up in front of his face, forgetting that all the kids were long gone by then.

Mickey walked into the single stall bathroom, catching Pervert Santa with his hat over his face. 

“Oh, sorry. My bad. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” He pulled the door closed behind him and walked quickly back to the pool table where he’d been hanging out all night. When he got back there, a fresh shot of whiskey was waiting for him. He knew he shouldn’t drink it – mostly because he had a strong suspicion that the Pervert Santa himself was sending them over – but who was Mickey to turn down free booze? Besides, he’d kept his eye on Santa all night long, making sure he kept a safe distance. He’d only lost track of him for a moment, which was the moment Mickey had walked in on him in the bathroom.

Ian quickly put himself back in costume, wig, hat, and all, then made his way back to the bar for his first cold beer of the night.

“Hey Ian, how many more shots you gonna send that guy?" Kev asked. "I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen anyone drink as much as him and still stay standing.”

Ian took a quick look at Mickey who was leaning forward to take his next turn at the pool table. His hands were as steady as could be, as if he hadn’t had a drop of liquor all night. Mickey dropped his green ball into the pocket and moved to the other side of the table, catching Pervert Santa's gaze and flipping him off again.

“As many as he wants.” Ian answered, winking at Mickey just for fun, which earned him an irritated scowl in return. He'd given up on the idea of talking to him tonight. With all the constant interruptions and Mickey's apparent annoyance with Santa, Ian decided he'd get his number from Mandy later and try again when there were less distractions and less chance of getting punched.

He took his beer and headed back to his throne. A few seconds later he had two of his drunk co-workers on his lap and another three gathering around for a group picture. Ian’s eyes stayed on Mickey as Debbie took the pictures.

It was ten past midnight when Mickey checked his watch again. He felt pathetic and stupid for staying as long as he had, but marked it off to the free booze and easy money he was making hustling the other players in pool. And though on any other night that might be considered a total win, Mickey figured it was time to cut his losses with Ian and leave. 

While Ian may have thought Mickey was handling all the whiskey like a champ, the truth was Mickey had been seeing double for the past hour. He pulled his phone from his pocket to order up a Yoober, then walked over to Mandy to make sure she was still good to go with Fireman Fred. As he started for the door, Mickey noticed Pervert Santa’s stare following him through the room. He moved to flip the old man off, but at the last minute he stopped himself and decided to take it a different direction instead.

He stood behind Debbie, waiting for the couple on Ian’s legs to finally leave, then made his way up to him.

Ian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Mickey approached. Mickey bit at his lip and tapped his knuckle against his nose. He tried to find the right words to say without offending Pervert Santa too much, while also not encouraging him in any way.

“Hey, listen – I uh… Thanks for the drinks tonight. That was you, right?” Mickey pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills to hand to him. “Here, let me pay you. I was being an asshole and probably should have just paid for them myself.” His words were slurred and Ian noticed him waver just a bit as he stood there.

Ian shook his head at the bills Mickey was holding out to him and smiled. “You're not driving yourself home, are you? You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“Nah, I called for one of those Yoober cars, you know. I’m good. Here, take the money.” 

“No, it was my pleasure.” Ian pushed Mickey’s hand away with the cash. “You sure you don’t want to sit on Santa’s lap and take a picture before you go?”

Mickey’s brows shot up onto his forehead as he laughed and shook his head. He squinted his eyes as he put the money back into his wallet, the pocket of his billfold swimming in his vision, then tucked it in his back pocket, “You’re fucking relentless man, you know that?”

Ian smiled. “No strings attached.” He leaned back and pat his leg, inviting Mickey to take a seat. “I’ll even keep my hands right here.” Ian placed his hands on the arms of the chair beside him.”

Mickey looked around the room, feeling ridiculous and over exposed all at once. Everyone was busy talking and laughing and paying no attention to him at all. The girl with the camera was busy talking to one of the elves, and Mandy’s back was turned away from them, so there was no chance of catching shit from her later if he gave in.

“Fuck. All right. But no fucking around, got it?” Mickey tapped the camera girl’s shoulder to get her attention, then stepped up to Ian. He felt like a fucking tool sitting on Santa’s lap, but the truth was Mickey had never sat on Santa’s lap one single time in his life, and if it meant getting felt up for 10 seconds from a dirty old man for a fucking Polaroid picture, he was just drunk enough to think it was a good trade.

Mickey's body swayed backwards off balance just a bit as he took a seat. He felt Ian’s hand slip around his waist and pull him in closer to steady him. “Hey! I thought we agreed no fucking around.”

Ian adjusted his leg beneath Mickey, then removed his hand again. “I was just getting comfortable.” He held his finger up to Debbie to have her wait a minute, then looked at Mickey again. Mickey’s eyes darted to Ian’s then away nervously. He’d never felt so out of place in his life, but the whiskey in his blood was making him bold so he stayed put on Pervert Santa’s lap.

“So, I asked you once before – have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“You’re seriously gonna keep fucking asking me that?” Mickey said, looking Ian straight in the eyes. Something, some indescribable feeling, moved between them at that moment, catching Mickey off guard. He moved to stand up, but Ian’s hand fell on his waist again and settle Mickey back down. Mickey gave in, mostly because it was easier to sit than to stand at that moment.

“Ok, fuck –" Mickey answered. "If I were a betting man, I’d say I was on the Naughty List.” 

Pervert Santa laughed – not a pervy laugh, but a genuine hearty laugh. 

“Why’s that?”

“Shouldn’t you fucking know why? You’re Santa, right?” Mickey asked.

“Yes, I guess I should, but I’d still like to hear it from you.” Ian waved at Fiona near the bar and held up two fingers. A few seconds later she was rushing over with two shots of whiskey. “Here… one more shot for the road. Maybe it will make you brave enough for confession.”

“Are you a fucking priest now?” Mickey asked, taking his shot in one swallow as was his style. Ian followed suit and set the empty glasses on the seat next to him.

“No, but I promise I will let you go catch your Uber if you answer the question.” He said.

“No, that’s all you need to know about me. I’m on the Naughty List for sure.”

“Ok, then tell me what you want for Christmas before you go.” Pervert Santa asked.

Mickey’s skin was warm and tingly, that last shot being the one to finally push him beyond his limits. He was on the horizon of Bad Decisions and knew he should leave, but sitting was so much easier. He gave Ian a lazy, beautiful smile and leaned in close to his ear. “All right. One fucking answer, then I’m leaving.”

His breath was heavy with the scent of whiskey and hot on Ian’s ear, making Ian’s cock tug beneath the layers of clothing. Mickey’s knee was tucked up right into his crotch, and he felt the twinge of movement. He pulled his lips back from Pervert Santa’s ear and laughed knowingly. Ian shrugged innocently, giving him a guilty smile in return, but waited for Mickey’s answer.

Mickey leaned back in so only Pervert Santa would hear his answer, “I want this fucking tall drink of water I met last night. He has red hair like fire and fucking amazing green eyes, and freckles and shit. He was... fucking beautiful." Mickey confided. "That’s it. That's all I want for Christmas.” Mickey reached up to pinch Pervert Santa’s cheeks as he pulled back, laughing again at his own ridiculous drunk confession. “You think you can make that happen, Santa?”

Ian gave him a gleeful smile, completely lost for words at what he'd just heard. Mickey gave him an equally cheery smile in return, his glossy eyes barely able to focus on Pervert Santa's face and swaying a bit on his lap. Pervert Santa reached his hand snuggly around Mickey's waist, holding him steady, then pointed at the camera. Mickey turned, looking as carefree and joyful as a child. Ian's affectionate gaze stayed only on him when Debbie clicked the shutter button. 

“Thanks again for the drinks, Santa. Sorry it didn’t work out between the two of us, but I think I might be spoken for.” Mickey said, stumbling quickly away from Pervert Santa's lap. He took the undeveloped photo from Debbie and headed for the door to wait for his ride.

Ian called after him just as he was leaving, “It’s called OOber! Not Yoober!” Mickey replied with a middle finger held high in the air as he went out the door.


	4. SUNDAY

SUNDAY:

“Mickey! Wake your ass up!” Mandy threw a pillow at his head, hitting him twice before throwing his phone at him. “Your goddamn alarm has been going off for almost an hour! Get up!”

“Shit. Fuck… what time is it?” He grabbed blindly for his phone on the bed beside him, squinting as he tried to focus on the time.

“It’s almost one in the afternoon. Why the hell do you have an alarm set for the middle of the day anyway?”

Mickey sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes. Why did he have an alarm set, he wondered? Mandy left his room but continued bitching at him as she went.

“Shut the fucking door.” He called after her, which she ignored. He rolled out of bed, pushing the sheets off of himself and realizing he was buck naked. There were tell tale signs of his late night ventures tossed on the floor beside the bed - a bottle of lube and a box of Kleenex with several discarded tissues thrown about. Thoughts of Ian popped into his head and reminded him why he hadn't gotten to sleep until nearly three in the morning for a second time that week. 

Mandy walked past just in time to catch a full frontal view of him sitting there naked, and groaned in disgust at her brother’s indifference to her presence. He reached around the floor under the bed until his hands landed on a pair of boxers, then slipped into them and headed for the shower.

Twenty minutes later he was dressed and refreshed, ready to thump Mandy upside her head with his finger if she came at him again. He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Mandy asked.

“Shopping.” He looked out the front window to check the weather, then grabbed a scarf to go with his jacket and gloves.

“Shopping? You mean Christmas shopping? NOW, at this time...on Christmas Eve?”

“Yes, fucking NOW, on Christmas Eve – It's the Annual Men’s Christmas Shopping Day, dontcha know. Need anything?”

“Yes, I need perfume. And some eggs and bread. Oh, and we’re almost out of toothpaste too, and pick up some…”

“Jesus Christ, just text me your fucking shopping list. And whatever fucking perfume you want – might as well make it easy for me.” He grumbled as he left.

“You’d better hurry up. Stores are all closing in a few hours.” He closed the door behind him and heard her yell, "BUY ME CHOCOLATE TOO!"

Mickey spent two hours at the mall. The crowds were significantly lighter than they had been just two days earlier, but the bargain deals and shelves were also significantly emptier as well. After much deliberation, he settled on a red sweater he had liked on one of the mannequins and Mandy’s favorite bottle of perfume. He took both to a gift wrapping center and paid to have them done up with bows and sprigs of holly and the two overpriced crystal ornaments he'd found for her. 

He and his sister had never decorated the house or observed the holiday in any religious way, however, since leaving home when they were still in their teens, they tried to at least get the other something nice each Christmas and for birthdays. There would be no fancy dinner, tomorrow. Just junk food and Xbox. Sometimes Mandy would even leave to spend time with her friends, leaving Mickey home alone most of the day, which he didn’t seem to mind at all. It’s just the way things were for them at Christmas and he was ok with all of it. 

The one thing he did do that was special was spending the money to have her gifts wrapped beautifully with new ornaments each year. Someday they might actually put up a tree, or eventually she'd run off and get married and leave. Then she'd have those to use in her own home. Mandy never told him it mattered to her, but she gratefully noticed them each year and kept them tucked away in a box under her bed.

An overhead announcement came as he was heading for his car, saying the mall would be closing in one hour. Mickey checked his phone for Mandy’s grocery list. She had been adding items the entire time he was gone and it was now up to about twenty different things, four of which were different types of chocolate, which she apparently knew he'd forget if it wasn't on the list. The snow had started falling while he’d been inside the mall, and the streets had become dangerously slick as the sun began to set. By the time he reached the South Side of town again, he was running the risk of missing the grocers before they closed as well, so he stopped at one a bit further from his neighborhood than usual.

He wasn’t nearly as lucky with shopping crowds at the grocers as he had been at the mall. There were throngs of people with full carts, and the shelves were nearly cleaned out due to both the holiday and the incoming blizzard which was expected to last more than a day. Mickey loaded up on the items Mandy had requested and a few extra munchies to eat while gaming on Christmas day. As he looked to choose the shortest line for check out, and bright flash of red hair caught his eye at the other end of the store. 

Ian. He was much closer to the front of the line than Mickey could hope to be, but Mickey made his way in that direction anyway, hoping to get another look to make sure it was actually him. 

Ian’s line was much shorter than the rest, serving only customers of 20 items of less. Mickey did a quick mental count of everything he had and decided 32 items was as close to 20 as anyone else in line. He made it a point to verbally excuse himself loudly as he pushed through the crowd to take his place in line, hoping to catch Ian’s ear. And it worked. Ian looked up just as Mickey fell to the back of the line. 

“Hey Mick.” Ian waved and gave him a warm, friendly smile as the cashier at the front of the line called “next” twice, trying to move him along. Ian moved into the self-check out and began ringing up his items at a snail’s pace.

The line moved quickly, with eight self-check out registers open to serve everyone. Ian was still fumbling through his handful of items, bagging them up, and paying when Mickey reached the front of the line. The cashier gave Ian an impatient look as he held up his lane even longer until Mickey was standing right beside him at the next self-check out. At last, Ian grabbed his two bags and stepped closer to Mickey.

“You just getting off work?” Mickey asked. Ian was dressed in his blue uniform, giving it away.

“Yeah, the fire station's a couple blocks over. What are you doing out here? Do you live nearby?”

Mickey scanned his items expertly, bagging them and paying in record time in comparison to Ian’s slow check out. He pulled his receipt from the machine and grabbed a handful of bags in each hand to leave.

“No, I don’t live out here. I live a couple miles over. I thought your fire station was over there?” Mickey said, realizing he had slipped by announcing he knew something about Ian’s job.

“Why would you think that?” Ian asked as they slowly made their way to the front doors of the store, neither of them in a hurry to end their visit.

“My sister went to a party last night with that friend of yours. It was out near my neighborhood, so I guess I just thought that’s where your job was.”

“No. A friend of ours owns the bar where we held it. Plus, I live over there.” Ian said. Mickey turned to him surprised. 

“You do?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, ‘bout a mile from the bar.” Ian answered. He stopped at the Red Box to browse the movies. Mickey stopped with him, leaning against the machine and taking the opportunity to take Ian In Uniform in. “Did you go? To the party, with your sister?”

“Nah, no… I was busy.” Mickey lied. Ian smiled, realizing that either due to Mickey's drunken stupor the night before or just Vee’s incredible make up job, Mickey was still none the wiser that Ian had been there and heard Mickey’s Christmas wish confession.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe I would have run into you. I was working, but got there before the party ended.”

Mickey silently kicked himself for leaving early, even though it had been well after midnight before he’d called it a night. Ian picked two movies and waited for the machine to spit them out, then tucked them into his jacket. As they reached the front doors of the store, the heavy snow had turned to near blizzard like conditions. Each of them took a moment to zip up their jackets and pull their scarves and gloves on.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around then, huh?” Ian asked, ready to turn toward the L to catch a train home. He hesitated, waiting for a response from Mickey.

Mickey stood there, biting his lip, not sure what to say. He'd taken his fair share of men home with him before, but those conversations had all started and ended with "let's fuck." No names were exchanged, no phone numbers, no kissing or holding hands, and definitely no return visits. But Ian... Ian was different. He wanted to take Ian home with him, but he wanted Ian to...to what? Mickey tried to shake the stupor from his brain, knowing he needed to say something quick before Ian walked away from him again. Ian's eyes were on Mickey, patiently waiting. 

“I can drop you at your house if you want? I got a car.” He pointed out into the snow covered parking lot, not at all sure which car was his anymore. “We’re going to the same neighborhood.”

Ian didn’t hesitate. He quickly turned to Mickey and said, “Yes! I’d love a ride.”

They trudged through the snow to Mickey’s car, and spent the next five minutes clearing it off as the engine warmed. It was not lost on either of them that in this storm it would have been quicker for both of them to just take the train home. Ian climbed into the passenger seat, reaching down to slide the seat back a few inches to give his legs some room. Mickey jumped in the car a second later, rubbing his hands together quickly to generate some heat. He reached out to blast the heater before taking off. The windshield was already starting to get covered in snow, so he turned the wipers up a notch and eased out of the parking space.

The roads were more slick than they had been just an hour before when Mickey had left the mall. They were still about five miles from their neighborhood, and cars were sliding all around as last minute shoppers made their ways back to their houses. Mickey took it slow, sliding a few times when he came to stop signs and traffic signals but managing the roads well enough.

“Turn some music on, if you want.” Mickey said. He reached out to click the radio on for Ian, but Ian was looking at a few random items sitting on the middle console area of Mickey’s car. 

“What’s this?” He picked up the photo of Mickey sitting on Santa’s lap. Mickey tried to grab for it, but Ian pulled it out of reach from him. Mickey had to put his hands back on the wheel to keep from swerving in the snow.

“Nothing, give that to me.” 

Ian reached up and turned on the overhead reading light to get a better look. “Is that you? Sitting on Santa’s lap?” Ian teased. Mickey looked joyful and beautiful smiling at the camera, and Ian noticed himself staring admiringly at him when the photo was taken.

“Come on, man, give it to me.” Mickey complained as a blush rushed up his cheeks. He kept reaching out trying to grab the photo from Ian's hands.

“Why do you keep this in your car, Mick? Good times? Just pleasant memories that you like to keep with you when you’re on the road? He’s hot! Did you get his phone number? Look at that belly! I’d definitely do him.” Ian mocked. 

Mickey surprised him by pulling the car to the side of the road and throwing it into Park. “Give me the fucking picture!” He unbuckled his seat belt and reached across Ian to try to grab it, but Ian moved his long arms around keeping it just out of reach as Mickey wrestled with him.

Ian was laughing so hard he could barely speak as Mickey continued to fight for the picture, but he managed to get out, “So, have you been naughty or nice this year, Mick?”

Mickey froze in place at the question, then pulled himself back into his own seat. “The fuck did you just ask me?” He asked a little too seriously in comparison to the fun they were having just seconds before.

Ian quickly sobered, “I, uh… I didn’t mean anything by it." He held the photo in front of him, taking one last look, then gave it back to Mickey. "Sorry. I was only joking around. Here.”

Mickey ignored him and the photo. Ian set it back in to the middle console where it had been before. The mood between them felt suddenly soured and he wasn’t sure what he’d said to ruin it. Mickey buckled up again and put the car into drive. He eased down on the gas but the tires only spun on the ice behind them. 

“Fuck.” He turned his wheel sharply hoping to get a bit of traction, checking for traffic, then eased down on the gas once more. Nothing. He put the car in reverse and tried to roll it back a few inches, before going forward again. This time he moved about three feet before getting stuck again in the deep snow that had accumulated at side of the road over the hours.

Ian pulled the handle on his door, “Hold up. Let me get behind you and push.” They attempted to get the car away from the curb three more times, but it was no use. The ice was solid below them and they were parked on enough of a hill that the most progress they seemed to be making was in a reverse direction.

“Motherfucker!” Mickey yelled, hitting the steering column as Ian jumped back into the front seat and brushed the layer of snow from his jacket. Mickey looked around. They were at least a mile or more from the nearest train station, but probably only a half mile from his house. He could have kicked himself for being so stupid as to pull over to the side of the road in this storm. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about this,” He started.

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry I was fucking around. I shouldn’t have done that, and then maybe we wouldn’t be stuck out here.” Ian admitted.

Mickey considered his words and laughed, “Yeah, fucker. You take the blame for all of this.” His mood was once again more relaxed as he peeked over at Ian sitting beside him. Ian was just about to announce that his house was just a few blocks away, and they could both head over there if Mickey wanted to deal with the entire Gallagher household, when Mickey spoke instead.

“Listen, I live about seven blocks from here. You want to just get out and walk? You can stay at my place, sleep on the couch if you want to, and I can get you home to your family first thing in the morning I’m sure. Or I can call you a cab from there. Let’s just get out of here before we fuckin’ freeze to death, ok?”

Ian smiled. “Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.” They grabbed the bags of food, and Mandy’s gifts, then Mickey tucked his Santa picture safely back into his jacket pocket. He was planning on giving it to Mandy since she was into that kind of sappy shit and he wasn’t.

The two men made their way through the deep snow slipping and laughing and talking too loud on the blizzardy night. By the time they reached Mickey’s apartment, neither had even realized how frozen and wet they were. They kicked off their shoes at the door and tossed their jackets onto the bench, then headed to the kitchen with the bags.

“Mandy! I brought home a stray I found out in the snow. Come out and say hello.” Mickey called.

A minute later Mandy came out of her room dressed in heavy leather boots, jeans and a warm sweater. She was pulling a scarf around her neck as she grabbed a winter coat before heading to the kitchen.

“It better not be an actual stray dog, Mickey. I’ll fucking kill you if you brought a dog home again.”

Ian stood in the kitchen, his sweet puppy dog smile gracing his face as she entered. “Oh shit! Look who it is!” Mandy dropped her jacket to the floor then ran up and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as Ian grabbed hold of her.

“Jesus, Mandy! Don’t fuckin’ rape him!” Mickey noticed her jacket. “Where the fuck do you think you're going? You can’t go anywhere out there, the roads fucking suck right now.”

“Fireman Fred is coming for me. He has a giant SUV and chains on his tires. I’ll be fine.” She answered. “Where the hell were you last night?” She asked Ian as he set her back down on the floor. Her arms stayed around his neck as they spoke.

“I was working. Got there pretty late, I must have missed you.” He lied.

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. She looked Ian in his eyes, a familiar flash between them exchanged as she tried to put her finger on something. Ian’s eyes darted to Mickey briefly, hoping he wasn’t paying too much attention to either of them, but Mickey was busy chugging down an icy cold beer on the way to the bathroom.

“You!” Mandy said quietly and accusingly.

“Me what?” Ian asked her cautiously, looking once again in Mickey’s general direction.

“YOU are Santa. Holy shit! I’m right, aren’t I?”

Ian’s smile immediately gave him away, even though he was shaking his head defiantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the Santa that I kissed last night! Don’t you fucking dare tell me you don’t remember kissing me! I remember it. I remember you doing your damn best NOT to kiss me! It was you!”

“Ok ok! Shhhh! Keep your voice down. I don’t want Mickey to know.” He pleaded.

“Why the fuck not?” She asked.

A motor revved out front, and Mandy knew Fireman Fred would be ringing the doorbell any second.

“I just… I hit on him last night, and he got pissed off, ok! I don’t want him to know it was me.”

Mandy busted out laughing as the doorbell rang. She ignored it, “Are you fucking kidding me? You hit on my brother dressed up like some old fucking Santa?” The doorbell rang again.

“Mandy, answer the fucking door.” Mickey yelled from the bathroom. The toilet flushed a second later, so Mandy didn’t bother to leave the kitchen knowing he would be out any second.

“So, are you going to tell him it was you?” The doorbell rang again.

“Fucking son of a bitch!” Mickey cried out as he went down the hall toward the front door, “Just come the fuck in already and stop ringing the bell!” he yelled as he got closer to the door. 

“NO, I’m not going to tell him! I was going to, but then he…“ Ian stopped talking suddenly.

“He what!? What did he do?” Mandy insisted.

“He sat on my lap and told me what he wanted for Christmas.” Ian blurted out quietly, listening to the voices at the front of the house and making sure Mickey wasn’t about to walk in on their conversation.

“He fucking did not! I don’t believe you!”

“Swear to god he did. He has a picture in his car.” Ian said.

Fireman Fred and Mickey were coming in their direction. Mandy stepped away from Ian, standing innocently as if they hadn’t been speaking at all, which immediately aroused Mickey’s suspicions. 

“The fuck is going on in here?” He asked.

“Nothing.” The both answered simultaneously. Ian reached his hand out toward Jeff as he entered the kitchen, “Hey Jeff, how’s it going? Long time no see.” Ian joked, having just gotten off a shift with Jeff a few hours earlier.

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to run into you here. I would have just brought you by if I’d known you were coming this way.” Jeff offered.

“No, it’s ok. I ran into Mickey at the store. We got stuck out in the snow a few blocks from here and had to walk the rest of the way.” Ian said.

“I can give you a ride home if you want. Trucks all warmed up.” Mickey had been standing there looking bored with their conversation until Fireman Fred offered to take Ian away. His eyes perked up and caught Ian’s, waiting on his answer. Ian held his stare for just a few seconds.

“You know what, we rented a few movies. I thought maybe I’d hang out for a while, if that’s ok with you, Mick.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows and feigned indifference. “Yeah, sure, do whatever you want, man. I got some munchies and shit to eat if you wanna stick around.”

Mandy turned and winked at Ian so that no one else could see her. “Ok, I’m leaving.” She pulled Ian into a hug and whispered in his ear, “You’re giving me fucking details later, bitch, got it?” She kissed his cheek and walked away, taking Fireman Fred’s arm in hers, “Come on Fred, let’s get out of here.”

Mickey and Ian watched them walk away. Ian said, “Does she know his name is Jeff?”

Mickey didn’t miss a beat before answering, “No, it’s Fred.”

***

They ate junk food and watched Jean Claude Van Damme movies which Mickey mocked the entire time Ian was praising them. They played a few hours of Xbox, cooked pasta, talked about growing up on the South Side and found out that they had even once played on the same Little League team ages ago. Ian told Mickey about his family. Mickey never spoke of anyone but Mandy. The snow had finally stopped falling long before their conversation died down, but neither mentioned it. 

Mickey went to the front bench to grab the two presents he had left underneath his jacket when they’d come in. Mandy probably wouldn’t be home tonight or even first thing in the morning, but he wanted those to be the first things she saw when she went into her room. He set them on her bed, then remembered the photo. He went back to the door, and picked up Ian’s jacket. Ian’s heart immediately fell a little as he thought Mickey was about to tell him it was time to go. He stood up reluctantly, but instead Mickey dug in the closet for a hanger and tucked it in among the other jackets hanging there. Mickey reached for his own jacket, feeling around each pocket for the photo he had tucked away, then hung his jacket right next to Ian’s in the closet. 

Mickey flung the photo at Ian like a Frisbee. “Here. One last laugh before it’s gone forever. Giving it to Mandy.”

Ian grabbed for the photo with both hands, being careful not to bend the edges. “Mandy? Why are you giving it to her?”

Mickey shrugged, “Don’t know. She likes shit like that. I’ll just lose it.”

Ian stared at the two of them in the photo, both of their faces full of joy and maybe even a little mischief after Mickey’s confession. He wanted to tuck the photo into his own pocket and keep it. He looked back at Mickey standing there with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed as he waited for Ian to make fun of him once again for sitting on Santa’s lap. 

“What did you tell him you wanted for Christmas, Mick?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Mickey felt a flush rush into his pale skin, unable to hide his embarrassment of the memory of what he’d whispered in Pervert Santa’s ear, now that his secret desire was standing right in front of him. “I didn’t tell him anything. It was just a picture.” He reached his hand out and waved it for Ian to hand the photo over.

Ian set the photo on the table beside the couch then took a few steps toward Mickey, slowly backing him up into the wall behind him. He leaned in close and spoke again quietly, “Come on, Mickey. Tell me what you asked for, for Christmas.”

Mickey’s skin shivered and tingled as Ian’s hand reached around his neck, pulling Mickey close so that his ear was right up against Ian’s lips as he spoke. “Tell me. What do you want?”

Ian’s hips pressed into Mickey, his hardening cock obvious and obtrusive. Ian slipped his other hand down around Mickey’s waist, his fingers gently moving beneath Mickey’s shirt and caressing his skin. “Tell me.”

Mickey wet his lips with his tongue, his hands reaching out to pull Ian closer to him, his open mouth moving along the skin on Ian’s cheek, feeling the rough scratch of his five o’clock shadow on his lips. He whispered against Ian’s skin.

“You. I told him I wanted you.”

Ian turned his head, his hot mouth finding Mickey’s in a wet, heated kiss as their hands groped and pulled at each other. Mickey’s hand moved up around Ian’s neck and into his hair, pulling him deeper and deeper into the kiss. This is what Mickey had asked for. This is what he wanted before, but after hours of laughing and talking and joking with Ian, this was not enough. Now he found himself wanting more. He wanted things with Ian that he'd never found himself even thinking about before, and it scared the shit out of him. 

Mickey's heart began to race and panic rushed through him as the realization of kissing Ian set in. This was passionate, it was intimate, it was personal - all things he didn't do, ever. He pushed Ian back, breaking their kiss suddenly and inhaled to catch his breath. He ran his hands down his face and across his lips, letting his fingers settle there for a minute as the taste of Ian's mouth lingered. He tried to clear his head and settle his heartbeat.

“Mick. What is it? What’s wrong?"

“Nothing. Just give me a fuckin' minute ok?”

He pressed his hand against Ian’s chest, pushing him back a few inches. Their eyes met and held. “I don’t know... I just need a minute.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Ian asked.

Mickey walked to the kitchen and filled a tall glass with cold water from the tap. Ian waited a second then followed behind him. Mickey gulped the water down, his back to Ian, then spoke. “I uhm… I’m sorry about that. It’s just that I don’t usually bring people home, you know? Not like this.”

“Like what?’ Ian pressed.

“Like this, like this! Like you, and all of this... this shit,” He moved his hands around wildly toward the bowls of left over pasta on the counter and snack foods and movie cases that were strewn about. “I don’t do _this_ ok? And… I just wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off.

"You weren't expecting what?"

Mickey didn't answer. He wouldn't even look up to face Ian again.

“Do you want me to leave? I can leave if you need me to.” Ian offered. “I don’t want to.” He added timidly.

Mickey filled his glass again, taking smaller drinks this time and sucking the drops from his lips as he set the glass down. Ian’s eyes fell to the floor as the silence grew longer between them.

“Ok. I’m gonna leave.” Ian walked to the closet where he jacket was hanging with Mickey coming up close behind. 

“Ian.” Ian hesitated to reach for his jacket. “Ian... just listen to me for a second ok?” Mickey didn’t know where to start, didn’t know what to say to keep Ian from leaving. He also wasn’t sure what he needed in order to be ok with Ian staying. His heart was racing again, the pulse beating in his own ears as he reached for Ian’s hand. Only their fingertips touched at first. It was the most Mickey could bring himself to do at the moment. Ian turned and took Mickey’s whole hand in his own, slowly and carefully. He could feel Mickey’s urge to pull his hand back, but it never actually happened so Ian held on.

Mickey bit his lip and searched the room as if his answers out there somewhere. He wrapped his fingers in between Ian’s and stepped closer to him. “You know how you told me all about your family and how close you all are, and how they drive you fucking crazy all the time, but that’s just the way it is?”

Ian nodded and waited patiently for Mickey to continue, pulling him closer. “My family isn’t like that. My old man – he’s in prison now. He tried to kill me... for being... you know, like I am. My brothers are locked up too - shit childhood, shit life. Hell, I'm lucky I'm not in prison right now. It’s just been me and Mandy for more than ten or so years, and I guess that maybe that’s part of it, but…”

Mickey finally looked up at Ian, “I don’t do this.” He moved his hand between himself and Ian, “I don't fucking kiss or hold hands," Ian squeezed gently on his hand to ground him, "You know, I don’t get involved with people… other men, because I have to keep her safe. And me too.”

“Is someone still trying to hurt you, Mickey?” Ian asked earnestly.

“No. Not anymore.”

Ian pulled Mickey in close to him. “Do you still want me to leave?” He asked.

Mickey slid his free hand around Ian’s neck once again. “No. I don’t want you to leave, and I guess that’s the problem here. I want you to be here. I want to spend time with you, and get to know you, and fucking see your stupid fucking face when I wake up in the morning, and it … fuck! It scares the fucking shit out of me, you know?”

Ian leaned down to Mickey, leaving a soft kiss on his lips. He let go of Mickey’s hand and pulled him in gently, taking his time, allowing Mickey to lead. Their kiss grew deeper, their tongues tangling between them for a moment before Ian pulled away.

“Ok, Mickey.”

“Ok what?” Mickey asked.

“Let’s do that. All of that.” Ian said. He trailed kisses along Mickey’s pale skin. “Let’s wake up in the morning, together, so I can see your stupid fucking face.”


	5. MONDAY - CHRISTMAS DAY 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is literally a chapter of smut - skip to the bottom of the page past the ********* if it's not your thing.

MONDAY – CHRISTMAS DAY 2017

Mickey was sprawled out on his belly like a star on the bed, with the weight of Ian’s heavy body practically on top of him, and a mess of blankets thrown all about them. He woke to the sound of the radiator hissing, his brain slowly registering Ian pinning him down. He should have been panicked. He should have felt claustrophobic. He’d never woken up to another person in his bed besides Mandy on night’s when she had bad dreams, but that hadn’t happened for years. But Mickey didn’t feel any of those things. Instead he felt safe.

He wiggled beneath Ian, trying to free himself without waking him, but it was pointless. Ian’s hand reached up and wrapped around Mickey’s, lacing their fingers into each other. His mouth found the back of Mickey’s neck and he began to leave small kissed along his hairline. 

“Morning.” Ian hummed into Mickey’s skin.

Mickey smiled, letting Ian’s hand go to roam his body. Ian’s fingers ran the length of Mickey’s back slowly, caressing each crevice and curve of the muscles along his back, up over his round ass and down along his thighs.

“God, Mickey, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Ian’s eyes weren’t even open but he could feel the heat rise up the back of Mickey’s neck against his lips. He leaned up on his elbows and used his long legs to spread Mickey’s legs apart, then eased himself between them. Mickey stretched like a cat beneath him, lifting his ass up in the air like an offering to Ian.

Ian took his time, letting Mickey relax beneath him as they both slowly came fully awake. He left kisses down Mickey’s back, speaking softly as he went, telling him how sexy he was, rubbing his hands up hard along his ass and squeezing, telling Mickey how much he turned him on. Mickey responded in kind, moving himself beneath Ian, into Ian, allowing Ian’s touch to spur them forward. He lifted himself up off the bed enough to adjust his hard, aching cock below him, as Ian began to grind his own against Mickey.

Ian reached under his pillow where he had stashed the bottle of lube the night before, squeezing a generous amount on this fingers to warm it. He reached down with his other hand, spreading Mickey’s cheek. Mickey reached around the other side and pulled the other cheek, opening himself to Ian’s touch. Ian’s fingers ran the crease of Mickey’s ass until they found the tight ring of muscles, then he wasted no time pressing two long fingers in at a time, knowing Mickey was still stretched out from just hours before.

Mickey’s own hand moved to cover Ian’s as Ian worked him open, pressing down on Ian’s hand each time he pressed his fingers deeper. Mickey slid his fingers around Ian’s, covering himself with the excess lube on Ian’s hand, then he slid his fingers along the length of Ian’s and pressed them deep into his hole as well. They worked like this for several minutes, both of them stretching him open as their fingers moved together and Mickey pushed his ass up hard into the touch each time. 

“Ian, I fucking need you in me right now.” he said, pulling both of their hands from his ass. He pulled his legs up under him, pushing his ass up into the air as Ian ripped open a condom and rolled it on. He pumped himself twice, working the rest of the lube onto the condom, then didn’t waste another second as he positioned himself behind Mickey. But he didn’t press forward.

Mickey reached back and slapped at Ian’s hip, “Come on, man, let’s fucking go.”

“Turn over.” Ian said, his voice deep and rough still.

Mickey lifted his head off the bed and looked back at him. “The fuck do you mean, turn over. No. Let’s go.”

“No.” Ian moved from between Mickey’s legs then reached over and flipped Mickey over effortlessly. “I want to see you.”

Mickey lay there, slightly stunned by Ian’s sudden bravado, but opened his legs without hesitation at Ian’s insistence. “Ok. All right. Let’s fucking do this.” Mickey reached up for Ian, pulling him back on top of him. “Let’s see what you got, big guy.”

Ian put both hands behind Mickey’s knees and pulled them up hard beside his chest, then moved himself so that the tip of his cock was bouncing and teasing at Mickey’s hole. “Reach down and line me up.” 

Mickey immediately did as he was told, holding Ian’s hard cock in his hand as Ian pressed forward. Mickey’s eyes rolled back and closed as he took in a deep breath. Ian cocked his head to the side and he pressed deeper, watching as Mickey’s eyes squeeze closed and his bottom lip get sucked in between his teeth.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mickey.” He was goddamn breathtaking to watch. Ian leaned forward, closing his mouth around Mickey’s. The new position pushed his cock even deeper into Mickey, making him let out an unexpected groan in Ian’s mouth.

“Holy shit, that feels good.” Mickey said, finally exhaling. 

“Is this ok for you? Are you comfortable?” Ian asked. Mickey body was basically folded in half up against itself with a 9 inch long piece of wood stuck up his ass. The thought of that made him laugh a little putting immediate pressure on Ian’s cock and making him thrust forward a little more. The shock of that move made Mickey gasp for air before answering.

“This is fucking great. Now move.” 

Ian slip Mickey’s legs up over his shoulders and began to move slowly at first, giving Mickey a chance to adjust to this new position. It only took a few slow thrusts before Mickey was lifting his ass off the bed indicating he wanted more. Ian pulled his cock until only the tip remained, then slammed hard into Mickey, eliciting a surprised cry from him. Ian pulled up again, hoping to get Mickey to scream out like that once more, but now it took even more work on Ian’s part. Mickey was taking everything Ian gave him like a champ, holding in the cries and moans he so desperately wanted to let out. 

His legs slipped from Ian’s shoulders and repositioned themselves tight around Ian’s waist, He pressed his feet into Ian’s ass driving him in as deep as possible with each thrust. He cock bounced wet and leaking between them, leaving drops of precum on his belly. 

Ian reached for Mickey’s hands tangling their fingers together and pressing them high above Mickey’s head. He leaned down, their mouths open and exchanging breaths between them, but both too tired to complete the kiss. Ian continued to thrust, the sweat dripping from his chin onto Mickey’s skin. Mickey’s resolve now bending to the delicious feeling of Ian’s cock hitting that bundle of nerves deep inside of him. Moans began to escape his mouth that he could no longer control.

“Fuuuck!” he cried out as Ian jabbed at him over and over. Guttural moans escaped Mickey mouth, as some primal, deep growl grew out of Ian, the sounds intermingling at their lips.

Ian let go of one of Mickey’s hands and reached down between them for Mickey’s red hot cock. He ran his finger along the liquid leaking from the slit and brought it to his mouth, licking it from his finger, then he leaned in and shoved his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, sharing the salty taste of cum with him. Mickey sucked at his mouth as Ian began to stroke his cock. 

They moved like this over and over, the urge to come building inside both of them, Mickey’s legs hugged Ian tightly, his free hand now pulling Ian down closer by the shoulder as he moaned uncontrollably into Ian’s kiss.

“I’m gonna fucking come, Ian.” Ian slammed into him again, once, twice, until Mickey was arching his back and pressing his head into the pillow, hot cum spurting from his cock between them.

Ian slammed into him again, working him through his orgasm and feeling the tight rings of Mickey's ass squeezing down on his own cock. 

“Fuuuuuuuck!” Ian cried out, falling over the edge of his own orgasm. His hand gripping tightly around Mickey’s own fingers, and mercifully letting go of Mickey’s softening cock. He thrust again, and again, until his movements finally slowed to a steady rocking motion inside of Mickey, riding out the last of his euphoria as sweat and cum glued the two men together. At last Ian stopped moving, his hot breath coming in gasps at Mickey’s ear and neck. Mickey’s free hand and legs loosened themselves from the vice grip they had had on Ian seconds before, falling onto the bed.

They lay like this another minute before the heat and weight of Ian’s body became too much for Mickey. He tapped him on the back and Ian slowly pulled himself from Mickey’s body, then rolled onto the other half of the bed.

*********

“Goddamn, Ian, that was fucking fantastic.” He huffed out, exhausted from one of the best fucks he could ever remember. “We’re definitely doing that again.”

Ian rolled onto his side and tucked himself up close to Mickey once more, setting his lips against his neck, “Merry Christmas, Mick.”

“C'mere, baby.” Mickey said, leaning down into Ian’s lips for a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”


	6. TUESDAY - CHRISTMAS DAY 2018

TUESDAY – CHRISTMAS DAY 2018

“I’m not fucking going. No! Your fucking family is nuts, Ian. Take Mandy.” Mickey pulled the blankets up over his head.

Ian searched his drawers for a pair of clean boxers, ignoring Mickey’s whining. He threw a pair of jeans at Mickey and a pair of boxers, then grabbed clothes for himself.

“Hurry up. We gotta be there in less than an hour. Fred's gonna be here to pick us up any minute." Ian said, completely ignoring Mickey's protest. 

“Which part of fucking _No_ don’t you understand?” Mickey yelled as Ian headed for the bathroom wearing nothing at all.

“Ian put some goddamn clothes on!” Mandy yelled at him as they passed each other in the hallway. “Jesus Christ, I’m gonna start looking for my own damn apartment if you two keep running around here with your dicks hanging out!” 

She marched off to her room to get dressed, stopping by Mickey’s bedroom door long enough to yell at him, “Get up and get dressed, asshole. They’re your fucking in-laws, not mine. If I have to suffer through it, so do you.”

Mickey pulled a pillow over his head to muffle the yell of frustration he let out. He held it there a moment longer, one hand laying over the other. It made him crazy, the way Ian and Mandy were always ganging up on him, like two little annoying peas in a pod. And now he had to deal with the Gallaghers as well. On their best days, they were a fucking pain in his ass, but they had been ten times worse over the past 24 hours since they found out Ian and Mickey had snuck down to the courthouse to get married without telling any of them. Today they would be facing the whole family in close quarters, and he knew they'd never hear the end of it. It was going to be a nightmare. 

He considered pressing the pillow harder onto his face until he stopped breathing just to avoid Christmas morning with the new in-laws. He pressed one hand on top of the other, testing the idea out, but before he could pretend to suffocate himself the titanium wedding band on his finger caught his attention. He rolled the band around with his right forefinger, an involuntary smile crept onto his face. Mickey reached his hand out, blindly feeling around the night stand for the photo frame Mandy had left under the Christmas tree for them. He pulled it under the pillow and blankets with him, running his finger along the engraving on the bottom of the frame:

 _"Ian & Mikhailo Milkovich ~ December 24th, 2018."_

On the left side was the Polaroid of Mickey sitting on Santa Ian's lap. On the right was a picture of them both smiling happily, flipping Mandy off with their brand new wedding bands showing on their hands. Mandy had taken the picture of them just moments after getting married, standing outside of the courthouse. She had sent it in for one hour developing so she could frame it for them as a gift. Mickey ran a finger along Ian's face on their wedding photo. He loved that asshole and knew he would do anything for him as long as they lived, including spending every miserable holiday with his family if that’s what made Ian smile.

Mickey pulled the pillow from his face and tossed it on the bed next to him. Ian was standing over him next to the bed, fully dressed now, and smiling. 

“Shut the fuck up and hand me a shirt.” Mickey grumbled as he finally sat up from the bed.


End file.
